Tuesday Afternoon
by Sofie
Summary: Mark finally looked up and Benny could see the dark shadows under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months."Mimi’s dead. She died three days ago."


Disclaimer: No, these characters are not mine. I really wish they were, but they're Jonathan Larson's. Damn. :) 

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Tuesday Afternoon

Benny didn't see Mark right away when he came into the café. He looked around, irritation growing by the second, and finally spotted him at a table almost hidden in the corner. Mark was looking down, slowly stirring his coffee. It was a familiar sight, Mark always took his coffee with so much sugar it took ages for it all to dissolve. Benny walked over, stopping on the way to order a coffee for himself from one of the waitresses. Mark didn't look up as he approached the table, which made Benny even more irritated.

"This better be important", he said as he sat down, "because I have about a dozen things I need to do right now."

"I won't keep you long", Mark said quietly.

The waitress, a young, pretty girl came over with Benny's coffee and he gave her a smile and a "thanks, sweetie" which made her blush. Then he turned to Mark.

"So?" he said impatiently. 

A few seconds passed before Mark answered. 

"Mimi's dead."

Benny froze, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. 

"What?" 

Mark finally looked up and Benny could see the dark shadows under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in months.

"Mimi's dead. She died three days ago."

Benny put his cup down too quickly and hot coffee splashed over and burnt his fingers, but he didn't feel it. He stared at Mark for a moment, letting the meaning of the words sink in, before he rose quickly and rushed into the men's room, not noticing the looks he got from the nearby tables. He got into one of the stalls just in time and fell to his knees and threw up violently. Tasting the bitter bile in his mouth he remembered every mean word, every insult, every degrading comment he'd made to Mimi in the last year. Soon his stomach was empty and there was nothing left to throw up, but he kept dry heaving, wanting to throw up the guilt as well. When he realised it was no use he slowly rose from the floor, feeling more than a bit dizzy. He splashed his face with some cold water, but kept his eyes closed the whole time so he didn't have to look at himself in the mirror. Taking a deep breath he went back to Mark, who was still stirring his coffee.

"Better?" Mark asked, sounding like he couldn't really care less. 

"Hardly", Benny said, filling his mouth with coffee, just to get rid of the foul taste of vomit. He forced himself to swallow and looked at Mark. 

"Three days ago?" he asked and Mark nodded. "Fuck. How could you not tell me until now?"

"I tried!" Mark said. "You've been to busy to take my calls."

Benny opened his mouth to protest, but then remembered that he had actually got several little yellow post-it notes with the words "Mark called" in the last days and ignored them all, except the one this morning. "Oh, God", he whispered and wanted to throw up again. He swallowed hard. "Is Roger…" he started, but quickly realised that asking if Roger was ok was probably the most pointless thing he could possibly do. "How's Roger?" he said instead.

"Remember how he was after April?" Mark asked. 

That's what they called it. After April. Not After April killed herself, or After Roger found out he had HIV. Just After April. It wasn't as painful to say and they all knew exactly what it meant. Benny did remember what Roger had been like After April. He'd already moved out of the loft by then, Roger, Mark and Maureen were the only ones remaining. But they were all still friends and Maureen had called him that horrible, awful, terrifying afternoon, hysterical, because she had no idea who you were supposed to call when there was a dead body in the bathroom. Roger hadn't said one word in eleven days. On the twelfth day he'd looked at them and said "I hate her" very quietly and then started to cry. Mark had slept in Roger's bed for a month, to wake him up when the nightmares came, and to get Roger to even fall asleep in the first place. Benny remembered all too well how worried they'd been about Roger, because he just wouldn't eat. He'd lost so much weight those first weeks. They didn't dare to leave him alone, Mark, Maureen or Benny, one of them were always with him. They never voiced exactly what they were afraid he might do. Talking about it would just have made it worse. Yes, Benny remembered what Roger was like After April. 

"Yeah", he said. 

Mark put his spoon down. "It's worse", he said. 

Benny didn't want to hear more. He didn't want to be here anymore, he wanted to leave and pretend this day never happened. 

"Did you leave him alone?" was all he could think of to say. 

"Of course I didn't!" Mark seemed hurt by the question. "Collins is there with him." 

"Collins?"

"Yeah." Mark was restless now that he'd stopped stirring, and started tearing a paper napkin into long, thin shreds. "He's moved back into the loft."

"Oh." Benny guessed he shouldn't really be surprised. "That's good."

Mark shrugged. "Maybe."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think it's helping. Roger or him." Mark sighed. "It's like Collins is reliving Angel's death, and I don't think he can handle it one more time. He was wonderful after Angel died, he was the one comforting everyone else, and it's like he's making up for that now. And maybe that's good for him, maybe he needs that, but… Benny, they're walking around like two zombies, and I have no idea what to do."

"Just give it time, it'll get better."

"No it won't!" Mark sounded desperate. "Yes, of course it'll get better in a while, but for how long? Until the next person dies, and then they'll remember everything all over again, and I'll go insane!" His eyes were beginning to look suspiciously shiny and he swallowed hard. "I just don't know what to do, Benny."

Benny wished Mark would stop saying his name. He didn't want to be a part of this conversation. 

"What do you want me to do?" he asked helplessly. "I can't help you." 

"You have to! You love Roger and Collins just as much as I do, I know you do. I can't deal with this by myself. You have to help me, Benny you owe me, us that." 

"No." Benny shook his head. "I don't owe you anything, Mark. We used to be friends, but you've treated me like shit! You don't have the right to say that I owe you anything. You've lost that right when you stopped talking to me."

"Well, what did you expect? You moved out, you betrayed us, you betrayed everything we believed in!" 

"And what exactly did we believe in?" They were both shouting now, and the occupants of the tables nearby were varying between looking intrigued and irritated. "Love? Beauty, freedom? Bohemian ideals are just fine if you want to live in a freezing apartment with nothing to eat for days! I wanted something better than that, I deserved something better than that!" 

"I know! I know." Mark was crying now, big tears were streaming down his face, and he angrily wiped them off with his hand and Benny suddenly realised exactly how young Mark was. How much older than his age he usually seemed, and how he probably would have been much better off if he'd just stayed in fucking Scarsdale and married a nice Jewish girl, and had normal friends that weren't as fucked up as his friends were now. Mark was crying, and Benny knew it was bad, because he'd only seen Mark cry three times. February 21st when Collins had told them he was sick, After April and at Angel's funeral. Mark didn't cry often, even though he was so young. 

"Fuck", Benny whispered. He took some bills out of his wallet and left them on the table and motioned for Mark to follow him out of the café. Mark did. It was raining outside, huge drops of water falling from the sky and splashing against the pavement. 

"I know," Mark said again and sniffed. "I know I don't have the right to ask anything of you, but there isn't anyone else. I just can't do it alone, Benny. I can't just stand by and watch them die, because they will die! It's just a matter of time and it scares me so much I can hardly breathe. And it makes me sick, because the thing that scares me most is not that they will die, but that they will die and I will be left alone." They were both soaking wet by now, but neither of them noticed. "I need you, Benny. Please. I just don't want to be left all alone." 

"Of course," Benny said, because there wasn't anything else to say, and he took Mark in his arms, because there wasn't anything else to do. "I won't let you be alone, he mumbled against Mark's hair, not even sure Mark could hear him. And he heard the rain hitting the pavement and he felt Mark sobbing against his shoulder and he could taste the salt of his own tears on his lips and he wished that he'd ignored also the last little yellow post-it note with Mark's name on it. 

The End.


End file.
